Hi,I am new to the site but take a look at what I wrote after being bulimic for ten years and on the verge to lose the battle for my life:

Storytelling Banned
To be breathing in a land where storytelling has been banned.
To be bullimic,unable to lock yourself in the bathroom to cry,
because your stay there will be seen in a different light.
To sleep,bleed,walk,talk,ache with none if these being part
of a greater plan.
To wake up sick,in the middle of the night,and no one to
be by your side.
To be feeled only with strikes.
The phone to remain silent on your birthdays.
Brutal,unhuman,devastating pain to make all your words
cut like blades.
To be called"sweetie"by a woman that sells waffles in a
street kiosk,or by people who use the word as if they say
"cabbage","glasses","birth rate".
To be told,by your own mother,that you can't love,no one
loves you and you don't deserve to have friends-
This is how the hell of my loneliness tastes!
When sky darkens beyond deep,tender blue I long
to have with whom to share this heartbreaking view.